Tales of the Sisterhood
by HumbleDreamer
Summary: When one thinks of the heroes of Cray, they often think of the Paladins or the Dragons, possibly even the wizards. But this is a tale of the Battle Sisters who operate behind the scenes. A tale of one homeless girl, who finds a home among unlikely souls. A tale of growth and family. A tale of a Sisterhood.
1. A Rough Greeting

**This story has no relation to any of my other works (few as they are). Instead, it's just something that I decided I wanted to see, so I wrote instead. I mean, the Battle Sisters have so much story potential for a potential anime. Anyhow, I actually have no idea how long this story will be, but regardless, you should be in for a, hopefully, fun and exciting adventure! :D**

 **Of course, this doesn't mean I'll stop working on _Weakness is a Sin: Rebellion_. It's still going on as planned.**

 **So in the meantime, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: A Rough Greeting**

* * *

It was a simple assassination, just like any other.

Slice her throat and take her body. Easy, right?

Wrong.

Shadows crept over Sasha as she slithered over the sapphire-scaled towers of a castle. Electric streams ran across the walls below in webs, much like the rest of the surrounding architecture of night-painted buildings and angelic lights. Stretching out under the structure was a rug of grass, dappled orange and gray by the urban ambience.

Such aesthetics were common in the Holy Nation, where new and old, technology and the medieval, came together in juxtaposed harmony. Her home, her territory and on this moonlit night, her hunting ground.

 _The eastern hall,_ Sasha thought, slinking into the far end. Reflections danced over her coal-black cloak, illuminating strands of cherry red hair that managed to cascade in side-bangs from her hood. She held two daggers close, edges glinting like fangs, and her next movements were catlike, sliding down one column before kicking off onto a nearby ledge. _Fifth floor for high-end guests. And this should be room 523._ She swung around, just out of the lamplight, and onto the next window. _Room 524._

A fresh, orange radiance continued to pour out from the window, and Sasha avoided it like fire, instead confining herself to the shadows, one ocean-blue eye peeking in. Sounds filled the breezy night air, quickly refining into audible voices as her elven ears twitched with concentration. Two voices. Feminine.

"It really is an honor to be standing in front of _the_ Fromage!" one voice chirped like an excited fledgling. "The Captain of the Battle Sisters as my personal bodyguard!"

"The pleasure is all mine," another voice, humble yet charismatic. "After all, it's not every day that I get to be in the presence of royalty."

Sasha's hand tightened around her daggers' handles.

"You know, I've always wondered what it'd be like going out on adventures." Sasha vanished onto the ledge above just as the younger woman opened the window. "Out there, seeing the sights, feeling the excitement. What's it like getting sent out on missions?"

"I'm afraid that in our line of work, missions aren't quite as grandiose," the elder one said. "And contrary to popular belief, as Captain, much of my work lies in the office, if not escorting esteemed individuals such as yourself twenty-four-seven. As you know, times are turbulent these days, after the Civil War, the rampage of the Zodiac Time Beasts, even now Cultists rasping of the Dragon Deity of Destruction roam our streets."

"I know that," the other girl replied. "But with all this, it seems like you don't get much freedom, or glory."

"We all have our own responsibilities to attend to. But I wouldn't say it's been unsatisfying. After all, as a member of the Battle Order, there's not a single day that I find uninteresting. That in itself is plenty enough of a reward."

"If you say so…"

The older woman let out a hearty chuckle. "Come, it's getting late. It wouldn't do for you to meet Lady Norn looking bedridden."

The younger girl sighed. "No, it wouldn't. Captain Fromage, can you keep a secret?"

"The very agency I lead is hidden from the public eye."

"Of course, how silly of me. Well, between the two of us, I absolutely _despise_ Lady Norn. She's so strict all the time!"

"Well, how do you think CEO Yggdrasil gets anything done?"

They both burst into laughter afterward.

"Too true," the younger girl said. "Alright. It's been great chatting with you."

"And I you," the elder returned.

"Good night."

"Good night."

That was Sasha's cue.

With quick, fluid movements, she landed back on the window ledge, making sure she didn't make a sound. A stray breeze blew up, entangling through her hood and bringing the faint scent of the courtyard roses with it. Her fingers fumbled around the window's edges until she felt cold steel.

 _Click!_

She wasted no time hopping in and shutting the window before the growing gusts could sneak in behind her. The carpet below her feet was soft, even with her ratty boots on. _Rich people things,_ she noted mentally as she stepped closer to her prey.

The girl's face looked serene as she slept, the dull moonlight bringing gentle shimmers to her skin. Her silver hair flowed out in streams under her, wrapping around like the blanket that was draped over her small frame.

A shame that her life would have to end tonight.

Sasha never really understood why she had to kill. She was never told why. Assassination was just her way of life as a member of the Night Fangs. It was how they stayed alive, and though it was a ruthless place to grow up as a fledgling elf, it was her family. Always was, ever since she could remember.

Sasha narrowed her eyes at the thought. She did wonder what her real parents were like, the parents who had left her in the streets to be taken in.

She held one dagger near the sleeping maiden's neck, only for an amused smirk to break across her face as warm light trickled through the room.

"Impressive. What ticked you off?" Sasha said coolly, unmoving even as the door behind her creaked wider.

"Step away from the girl," the woman from before – Fromage, apparently – warned. The sound of a gun loading cracked behind her.

Sasha let out a soft laugh as the girl under her awoke with a stifled yelp. "You do realize, that _I'm_ the one with the superior position here, correct?"

"That's assuming you escape with your life," Fromage said. "And I guarantee you, you're not getting away easily."

"I don't doubt that," Sasha said, sneaking a glance at the woman's weapon: a gunblade. Dangerous. She'd defeated many a foe in the grimy streets of the capital, but certainly not a Captain. She knew when she was, for the lack of a better word, outgunned.

The loud crackle of a gun firing filled the air as Sasha backflipped away from the bed, the bullet narrowly grazing the side of her hood.

Fromage was quick, bringing Sasha's target close, then pushing her out the door. "Go. Get to end of the hallway. My associate will keep you safe."

Sasha clicked her tongue in annoyance. _I had my chance and I blew it._

Another bullet soared past her as she hopped back onto the ledge.

 _But now I need to get the hell outta here._

With another flourish, Sasha was on top of the window ledge again, then with another flip, was hurtling to the ground below. Bullets rained down after her, some leaving dents on the walls, others exploding onto grass. A few bounced off Sasha's daggers, drawn out in rapid succession, as she skipped from ledge to ledge, then landing gracefully onto the courtyard fields.

Sasha rolled forward just as steel struck cobblestone, the debris flaring up like curtains as Fromage rose to her feet, gunblade sweeping the rest of the cloud away.

Another bullet bounced off her crossed daggers. She backstepped to evade another slash, only to grunt as she felt a heel to her stomach. _She's the real deal,_ Sasha thought, panting as her opponent took calm steps forward. _Not even breaking a sweat._

"Surrender and I just might spare your life." In the moonlight, her ringlets of golden hair seemed to dance under the veil of her monastic habit. The rest of her nun's dress shimmered with a gentle blue, and it was easy to make the mistake of her being a benevolent presence.

"So you can just lock me up?" Sasha spat. "Thanks, but no thanks."

Fromage shrugged. "So be it, then."

 _Sloppy_ , she cursed as she parried another stream of bullets. Daggers crossed to block. Too slow. Wind slapped against her throbbing palm as one of her daggers escaped her grip. Tiny rivulets of crimson ran down her wrist. The back of her opponent's saber slammed into her, knocking both Sasha and her breath onto the grass.

 _Too strong,_ she thought with a gasp, rolling to evade another slash. _Have to get away. If I can just get into the shadows…_

She threw her remaining dagger, only for it to sail straight past Fromage's tilted head.

 _Of course. Silly me._

Sasha used whatever energy she could muster and scrambled to her feet, only to be held in place by a pair of swords, each one crossing over the other, their edges lingering just inches from her trembling throat.

"I'd give up if I were you, little one," a voice trilled behind her. Sasha looked up to see a tawny-haired woman smiling down at her, face draped with the clumsy shadows of her nun's habit. "Your situation doesn't look too lovely."

 _Crap._

"Now that you mention it, she is rather little." Fromage lowered her weapon and took a moment to scan her figure. "You can't be older than twelve, I'd say."

"She's so cute!" the other woman cooed. "Captain, can we keep her?"

"…No, Parfait. She's not a pet, she's a dangerous assassin."

"But, but!"

"Is the client secure?" Fromage diverted.

"Yes." Parfait pouted. "Always so serious. You never let me love enough."

"I believe the word is 'live,' and work is work."

"The word is 'love.' Always, love!"

"Sometimes I wonder if you even know the meaning of the word," Fromage sighed.

"I do. Love. A noun, meaning a strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties," Parfait responded matter-of-factly.

Fromage shook her head, even as she plucked up one of Sasha's fallen daggers from the grass. She examined it, turning it ever so delicately in the moonlight. "This craftsmanship is unique. And this insignia…you work for the Night Fangs, don't you?"

"So what if I am?" Sasha retorted.

"To think they'd resort to using children for their operations," Fromage murmured. "That's low, even for them."

Something snapped in Sasha. She wasn't sure what, but her body was moving on its own, and words were spraying out of her mouth almost instinctively. "They're my goddamn family, you witch!"

"Oh!"

She ducked down, knocking Parfait down with a single kick. Then, she pounced on Fromage.

The woman sighed, sidestepping, and the last thing Sasha felt was a knock to her neck before she fell limp on cool grass.

And the rest faded to black.

~ΦΦΦ~

"Hey, Taffy! I think she's waking up!"

"Not so loud, Chai! We want her to wake up _naturally_ , remember?"

"But what difference does it make if she's already waking up?"

"You don't get to decide that!"

"Now who's shouting loudly?"

"That was a heightened whisper! _Heightened whisper_!"

Sasha's surroundings started to blur into sight. A small room with wooden walls and little lamps all around. Comfy. Snug. Blankets were draped over her. She caught sight of a pink-haired nun huddled to her left and another, turquoise-locked one standing at the foot of the bed.

"See? Now look what you did." The turquoise-haired nun hurried over to her side, aquamarine eyes large and concerned. Sasha noticed a clipboard nestled in her arms. "Hey there. How are you feeling? I'm Taffy. Well, that's my codename, but for all intents and purposes it's my name now and forever. Sorry, I get nervous when I blabber. I mean, I blabber when I get nervous. Ugh, I'm still new to this whole assistant job, ever since Captain gave Éclair the boot. No, you weren't supposed to know that. Ahh. So, how are you feeling?"

Sasha blinked at the girl sitting at her side. "Uh…I'm…okay?"

"Great!" she chirped. "That's great. Polvoron was worried that you might've got hit a bit too hard. Do you remember what happened exactly?"

Sasha did indeed remember. It was coming to her now. The assassination. The battle. Getting her butt handed to her. She nodded.

"Ouch!"

Sasha rubbed her head. The turquoise-haired girl hopped back to the floor, frantic. "Chai! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Chai shrugged, waving a paper fan in the air. "Figured she needed a good smack to jog her memory."

"How many times do I, no, _everyone_ in the Order have to tell you: HITTING PEOPLE OVER THE HEAD DOES NOT MAKE PEOPLE FEEL BETTER!"

"Now who's shouting, Taffy?"

"I'M NOT SHOUTING!"

"Enough."

The two turned their heads at a calm voice. A young woman with hair of caramel stepped into the room, a katana sheathed at her hip. She also wore a monastic habit, black as night, with stripes of moonlight as its highlights. She shot a glance at Taffy and Sasha.

"Captain Fromage wishes to see her."

"O-of course, Sister Cookie." Taffy bowed before helping Sasha to her feet. "We'll be there at once."

"Good." The woman's hard expression melted to a warm smile. "Remember Taffy, we all appreciate the work you put in as the Captain's assistant."

The walk to their supposed Captain's office was a long one, but not fruitless. Though Sasha's wrists were bound with magic cuffs, standard Oracle Think Tank issue, she wasn't blindfolded. The only conclusions she could draw from that were that they either couldn't care less what she saw, or that she would be here for a very long time. Or maybe they were careless.

Marble towered in pillars and beams around them, encircled with artistic swirls. Murals and patterns decorated the ceilings and floors, lit up by the many chandeliers that dangled up in the air. It was a church like any other, complete with stained glass windows across the walls.

"We just got them re-stained yesterday," Taffy said, noticing her lingering gaze. "Like it?"

"They're pretty," Sasha said. Nothing more. She was led across what looked like a mass area, now empty save for a couple nuns praying in silence. Both had some sort of weapon by their side. Sasha noticed her hood was gone. All she had on was a dark gown, and her wild red hair was left free. It made her feel obscenely exposed.

"We're here," Taffy chirped, opening the door to a rather lavish office. Birchwood shelves lined the walls, filled with folders, boxes and books. The two women from the night before were present, one sitting comfortably at a wide table before them, while the other stood vigilant beside her. Captain and Deputy. No wonder she had her butt handed to her. At the sound of the door closing the one seated discarded her reading spectacles and set down a heavy-looking booklet on her table. The words 'DAMAGE BILLS' were emblazoned over its cover. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Captain Fromage. Deputy Parfait."

"How many times have I told you, Taffy? Just Parfait is fine," Parfait smiled.

"Well, pleasantries out of the way, thank you Taffy, for bringing her here." Fromage said. "Now, Sasha, was it?"

Sasha twitched. "How do you know my name?"

"I know far more than just your name," she said. "I know that you've been with the Night Fangs for all your life. An assassin since birth. Or so your file says."

"How…"

"The Oracle Think Tank is the best information agency on Cray," Parfait stated. She was still smiling. Creepily. "It's what keeps us one step ahead. For our clients' sakes."

"Clients?" Sasha raised an eyebrow. She knew of the Oracle Think Tank corporation, the best in information brokering. But she wasn't privy to their affiliation with the Church.

"We are a subdivision of the corporation," Fromage explained. "The Battle Order, both the bridge that connects Oracle Think Tank and the Church of Messiah, and the defenders in the shadows. We protect what needs to be kept safe. We eliminate any threats to the prophecies of the Holy Nation."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt," Fromage said, leaning forward. "You see, Sasha, I believe you're but an innocent pawn in all this."

"I'm not," Sasha growled. "The Night Fangs raised me, okay? Took me in as an infant. They're my family. We only accept assassination jobs because it's what keeps food on the table."

"Do you really believe that?" Fromage asked.

"Without a doubt."

She sighed, then motioned for Taffy to bring her a collection of documents, which she tossed onto the table. "Then tell that to the innocent bodies that are left on the streets each night, drained of blood. Left by your 'family.'"

Sasha gripped the papers, looking over the gruesome photos and the incriminating evidence. "No, no. You're wrong. We only kill those with power and money. And even then, we kill them silently, not…not torture…like this…"

"Look me in the eye and tell me I'm lying to you," Fromage said. But her sapphire eyes were sincere.

"I…I didn't know…"

"No, you didn't, love," Parfait murmured, quick to cradle her. "We're not holding that against you."

"There's more," Fromage interjected. Her voice rattled with subtle reluctance, but she steeled on regardless. "You mentioned that they took you in an infant?"

Sasha nodded. She could feel the tiny rivulets sliding across her cheeks.

"Well," she passed on another document. "That's not quite right."

Her voice cracked as Sasha read it, and for a while, the rest of the room seemed inaudible, a daze. She felt weak, like the paper would fall right through her fingers at a moment's notice. "It can't be…"

A family of elves was slaughtered. Their house was in shambles, torn apart. Their blood spilled and taken, along with a single infant girl, lost to the night.

Until now.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any canonical characters from the card game. That's Bushiroad's property. But, I do own my OCs. And speaking of which, Sasha is not an OC. That's right, she's already in the Cardfight! Vanguard game as an existing Battle Sister, and this is her origin story (and story in general). I've thrown enough hints, so have fun figuring it out~ Even the title of the first chapter itself is a hint.**

 **Furthermore, this story is set just before G: NEXT, on Cray of course, so the Gyze War does play a major role in the background. I say background because this focuses on the Battle Sisters' point of view. And this story IS lore-accurate...well, as lore-accurate as can be. I'll be taking a few artistic liberties here and there, but for the most part I'll try and keep the characters as close to their lore as I can.  
**

 **Any feedback is always appreciated! :D So until next weekend~**

* * *

 **Sasha's Notebook**

 **Captain Fromage: The apparent captain of the Church that kidnapped me. The irony is both hilarious and sad. I hate to admit it, but she's really strong. And...strangely gentle.**


	2. Behind Closed Doors

**A big thank you to Radbman21 and VoidArmour for faving/following this story! And I'm glad you enjoyed the story's premise, Akusaka!  
**

 **So without further ado, I bring you Chapter 2~**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Behind Closed Doors**

* * *

The lower levels of the Battle Order's base were filled with archives and antiquities, filed and delivered from only the highest authorities of the Oracle Think Tank conglomerate. Relics adorned with draconian scripture, age-stained scrolls wrapped in luscious ribbon, floating turquoise screens hovering across the dimly-lit halls, they had it all. The Battle Order was the muscle of the Oracle Think Tank, but much like with any functioning body, it required intelligence from the brain.

The dimly-lit halls of the lower levels also made for a nice, quiet place to stay, away from the noise of the middle levels, open as both a museum and operational church, and the chaos of the upper levels, filled with the craziest screwballs of the Holy Nation. In fact, it was so chaotic up there that the walls had to be reinforced with soundproof magic lining on top of strengthening enchantments to prevent the rabid destruction that so ailed any place the agents set foot on.

Sasha liked it here. As quiet as it was, there was still a steady stream of people walking around. Sasha herself was perched on a wooden beam, half masked with dark, half illuminated by a neighboring chandelier. The Order couldn't give her back her hood, but instead, she was given a set of new clothes. A black cape was draped over her small frame. An oversized monastic habit hung over her head, a clear indication of her newfound affiliation with the Church. She wasn't sure if it replaced her old hooded cloak adequately, just as she wasn't sure if the Church was her new home.

It'd been a little less than a week since the Order took her under their protection. A little less than a week since she learned her family of bandits was a gang of fanatic torturers. And murderers, but that came under the 'assassin' job description. Oh, and the cherry on top: she was stolen from her family, leaving them lifeless as the moon on that fateful night.

"I've been used from the moment I was born," Sasha murmured. "By monsters."

But Sasha refused to think on the revelation beyond that simple conclusion. She was taught to never let her emotions get in the way of her objective, to drag her down.

" _But how?"_

" _Everyone has their own way. For me, I drink. A lot."_

Her chest tightened at the memory. Her mentor wasn't a very kind person, but she filled a motherly role where she didn't have any. And apparently, she'd killed her mother along with her family. It was a confusing, crazy situation for Sasha, so she did what she learned to do: focus her energies elsewhere.

That elsewhere just so happened to be observing the happenings that went down beneath her. If she was going to be staying here she might as well see what sort of people she'd have to share an entire Church with.

"Which piece of paper were we looking for again, Berry?" a gentle voice sailed up from below.

She heard the rattle of a drawer being pulled out. "Document X – 26573, as requested by Deputy Parfait. I advise you elevate your ability to recollect, Pannacotta."

"My…huh?"

"Consider improving your grasp of English vocabulary as well."

"Eh? But I thought we'd decided that being the brains is your thing."

"I am simply a pursuer of knowledge. Nothing more. Nothing less." A cabinet opened. "But I will admit handling Madeleine requires a certain intellectual finesse."

Sasha inched back into the shadows, eyeing the two women below her. One had a large broadsword over her back, with strands of lavender hair peaking out from her habit, whose frills were matched only by her dress. The other woman's dress was far more extravagant, in contrast to her mechanical personality; mosaics of blue and green lining her edges, red jewels glinting over. Bright white hair hung down in a streak behind her. A cross about the size of her own body leaned against a nearby cabinet.

"Speaking of, where is she?"

"Genesis's Weapons Department. Allegedly, Elemental Machine Gun requires immediate advancement."

"So…upgrades?"

"Yes. In layman's terms, upgrades," The lady named Berry plucked out a folder, flipping it open. "In order to be more compatible with her…methodology, so to speak."

"Ah. So we can expect a bigger storm of bombshells when we get into fights, then."

"Indeed. Nonetheless, we've obtained the object of interest."

"To the Captain's office!" the other young woman cheered as they turned around, walking across the room.

Sasha watched intently, only to steel herself when one of them halted. When she turned to look up, Sasha found herself looking back, ocean blue to ruby. There was an eyepatch over the woman's left eye, and it seemed to glow indefinitely. For a moment, she'd forgotten to breathe, and wondered what dire consequences she'd have to face for potentially eavesdropping.

Not unlike that one time the showers exploded in a shower of steam and rain.

And then the woman turned back around to resume her walk down, with a confused companion trailing after.

"What happened, Berry?"

"Nothing, it seems. Perhaps a stray cat has let itself in."

"Oh. A stray. How exciting! Is it a boy or a girl?"

"On task, Pannacotta, on task."

 _She knew I was here._ Sasha thought. _But why choose to ignore me?_ She stood back up and bounced across beams and down onto the ground. Simple observation wasn't quite enough. There was a stifled burning inside her for answers, and it was about time she'd gotten them.

~ΦΦΦ~

Taffy never expected to be granted a comfortable home with ample food on the table always and a roof over her head, much less an actual office.

Yet here she was, as the Captain of the Battle Order's new assistant. Not many girls got to work with their idols, and Taffy enjoyed every second of it, but sometimes, she got overwhelmed, and when she was, well, that's when she had help of her own to rely on!

"Thank you so much for helping me with this, Cream," Taffy said, stapling a couple sheets together.

"It's really nothing," Cream said. A fiery-haired teen, with bandages holding her twin katanas at her thighs. "I know how you feel. Keeping my sister – er, blood sister, under control during a mission is a lot of work too." She stamped another sheet of paper. "And don't sell yourself short, Taffy. You're doing much better than you think."

"Really? I hope so." They were now sorting through the roster reports. "I wouldn't want Captain to be disappointed. I wonder if Éclair was just as nervous when she first started out."

Cream stifled a giggle. "I highly doubt it. I mean, she practically forced herself on the Captain."

"Really? You've gotta tell me about that sometime. I mean, if it's really private that's okay, but at the same time I'm kinda curious, and I sort of feel bad filling in Éclair's shoes, but then again, it was so sudden–"

"Taffy."

The turquoise-haired girl blushed. "Right. Member statuses. Sorry. Um, so who's currently on duty?"

Cream laid down a report with a profile photo attached to it. It depicted one girl, grinning like a maniac, with her shoulder over another, much more nervous looking one. Probably because of the knives dangling from her partner's fingers. At least she managed to hold out a peace sign, right? "Well, Chocolat and Cocoa are off recovering stolen profits from a gang of bandits up north."

"Chilly. Is Mocha not with them?"

"No." An image of two legs bent in a bewildering fashion, along with cartoon images of crowns and sparkles and the text: MINERVA AIN'T GOT NOTHING ON THESE BEAUTIES pasted over it. "Apparently, she's on retreat to the mountains of Dragon Empire to train with the dragon monks of Narukami."

"Okay, so Mocha is on leave." Taffy stamped the document before fishing out another. This one had on a much more normal looking photograph; a portrait of an adorable little girl with a fountain of platinum blond hair. Well, ordinary if one could ignore the sculptures of pistols in the background…made out of actual pistols. "Waffle is off guarding a client through Dragon Empire."

"Waffle? On bodyguard duty?" Cream looked amused. "How is she holding up?"

"According to this recent message, she hates all of the cuddling and wants to come home ASAP. Help."

Cream laughed. "Oh that sounds just like her. That cute doll."

"Cute doll indeed," Taffy grinned. She turned to the final set of documents. "And finally, Florentine. Has she not come back yet?"

"Apparently not." Cream passed on another sheet of paper, which Taffy stapled on. "She's still chasing that one criminal across Dark Zone. I'm surprised he's held out for so long. This could be a whole new record."

"Well, it's only a matter of time before he either gets captured or burned alive," Taffy said, yawning. "And Kipferl and Baumkuchen?"

"They'll make sure Florentine doesn't overdo it." Then Cream put a finger to her chin. "Or maybe they'll just overdo it themselves."

Taffy sighed. "And so the damage bills keep piling on."

"What damage bills?"

"Ah!" Taffy jumped, almost knocking over a pile of well-stacked files.

"Hello. Sasha, was it?" Cream regarded the girl hanging from the ceiling with a welcoming smile. "Come, sit with us."

She dropped down on the couch between them, then picked up one of the stray sheets of paper lying around. "How many people do you have to account for?"

"Women," Cream corrected. "No men in the Battle Order."

"Is there a reason why there aren't any?"

"I guess nobody would suspect a Sister as a legitimate threat," Taffy shrugged. "But I've heard the CEO apparently had a thing for the whole nun gimmick, which was why she has us in these getups."

"CEO? You mean…"

"Lady Amaterasu," Taffy answered her.

"And to answer your first question, we have countless agents working for the Battle Order," Cream said. "Said agents also tend to be rather destructive out in the field. But don't worry, we're one of the sane ones."

"You certainly seem like it," Sasha remarked. "So, uh, I wanted to ask…do you have anything else on the Night Fangs?"

Taffy glanced at Cream, then back at Sasha. Apprehensive. "Look, I get it. You want answers. But right now, you need to stay here, until we can resolve this."

"But what's wrong with me going back out there? I can go and try and get answers. I can help! I can do something!"

"It's…it's not safe," Taffy tried.

"We're…worried that you might do something reckless. It's for your own protection," Cream added.

Sasha's eyes burned. "Protection? Are you serious?"

"Sasha, please. Your mind isn't in the right place," Cream said, but her hand was batted away as Sasha stood back up.

"No, it _is_ in the right place. And mark my words, the _Night Fangs_ will be the ones needing protection, _not me_."

~ΦΦΦ~

Sasha smashed her fists against the pink-painted door of her room. "Let me out of here!"

"Like we said, you're unstable," came Cream's voice through the door.

"Oh come on. I can't be any more unstable than the rest of the screwheads down here!" Sasha protested.

There was a pause. "Touché. But still, Captain's orders is keep you here until further notice."

Sasha groaned, kicked the door and slid down to the floor.

"I understand how you feel," Cream said. "But I'd like you to understand as well. We can't have you doing anything reckless. This is for your safety."

"I've been taking care of myself long before you all happened on the scene," Sasha muttered.

"I'm well aware."

Sasha got back to her feet and adjusted her habit. Everywhere she looked was pink. Apparently, Fromage had a soft spot for pink, and as a result, by default all rooms were painted with pink, filled with dark pink furniture and the beds were fitted with pink sheets.

So. Much. Pink.

Ew.

Sasha missed her old room, in many ways. While it was…less than luxurious, to say the least, she could at least call it hers. Her things, her weapons, her bed. It had a neat view of the city lights, from her broken-glass window.

Here, it was all walls and pillars. The only light was artificial, near-real sunlight, clean air, all thanks to the combination of Noble magic and advanced biotechnology, but it wasn't quite the same thing. But more importantly, she couldn't get to the Night Fangs here. Rage boiled and festered inside her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Sasha wanted answers. She wanted payback in blood. But most importantly, she just wanted peace of mind. A distraction, perhaps. Anything to not stand around alone with her own swirling thoughts.

Sasha tumbled into the bed, pink folding and furling over her. It had an alien scent to it. Refreshing. Not at all like her old home. The ceiling above her was painted a bright blossoming pink. Fluorescent jewels hung down, casting the space in a warm glow. Perhaps the only things that weren't pink.

The walls were blank, just plain canvases to be decorated on at her leisure. Though, she wasn't the type to decorate. Decorating meant settling in, meant putting a bit of her into something, when she was a blank canvas herself.

Sasha wondered what the Night Fangs were doing in her absence. Did they genuinely miss her? Or were they plotting to kidnap the next child to use in their goals? The thought chilled her to the bone, imagining a hulking bandit man hacking away at another young girl or boy, with nothing but a wooden sword to defend themselves.

And yet, it was the same people who'd given her food and a roof over her head. At least, if she did well, and she did do well. She had a natural affinity for killing and combat, morbid as that was. But, it went deeper than just a talent. It was as if she'd been training for far longer than she had, like she'd been fighting even before birth.

Sasha rose up into a cross-legged position, the blanket curled around her. Even the wall behind the bed was empty, just aching to be filled up. And just at the bend where it met the ceiling, a segmented square sat above, staring her down.

 _An air vent?_ Sasha thought.

Her curious frown snaked into a smirk.

~ΦΦΦ~

"Done!" Fromage exclaimed, throwing her arms up into the air and pushing back on her chair. "That's all of the bank statements accounted for."

"Not quite," Parfait said, blue eyes sparkling despite Fromage's horrified look. "There are some extra bills that just came in yesterday."

Fromage stared at the giant stack of papers now lying in front of her. "Parfait. Do you hate me?"

"On the contrary, Fromage, I love you more than anything!"

"I hate you."

"You love me from the bottom of your heart."

"You don't even know the meaning of the word."

"Love. A—"

"Okay, okay. I get it. Let's not start _that_ conversation again," Fromage sighed, rubbing her temples. She remembered a time when she was just another one of the CEO's trusted bodyguards. She was lucky she studied accounting during her time at the Sanctorum University, or her head would've exploded long ago.

"Good," Parfait trilled. "Good luck. Oh, and Macaron blew up a bank on her mission in the Magallanica Islands. The acting manager there just filed a complaint."

"Was she not supposed to be protecting the bank?"

"You know how she is."

The blonde groaned as she took the piece of paper from her Deputy. "I'll take responsibility for this."

"As you always do," Parfait said. "But take it easy, okay? Here, I'll take on half of these statements, and then we can finish up quickly and go for desserts!"

"Mm. That does sound nice," Fromage said, smiling. Then she brought her hands to her chin. "Hey, Parfait…do you regret joining the Battle Order?"

"Not at all. I'm glad to be here, ever since you all rescued me and took me in."

Fromage ruefully brushed a finger over a photo standing just beside her computer. The wooden frame was polished, but the photo itself was beginning to age.

It was a group photo. A younger Fromage stood in the middle, with a mischievous grin. At the time she had yet to take up the Destroid Bayonet, instead owning a humble machinegun. To her left was Cream, just a little girl with no battle training at the time, backed by a serene Cookie. To her right was Parfait, gentle and kind. To Parfait's right and back were Chocolat and Cocoa respectively, each attempting to pose despite their comrade's towering height.

And sitting cross-legged just in the front, both hands up in peace signs, was another young woman in a navy blue dress, with long hair like fire and eyes like the sea.

"We all miss her," Parfait said, as if she read her mind.

"If I could go back, make things right, I would," Fromage murmured.

"We all would," Parfait murmured. "I wonder if she's–"

Before she could finish, however, the door to the office swung open. The impact of mahogany on mahogany nearly caused a nearby plant vase to topple over. Fromage twitched at the notion of the expensive piece of furniture shattering.

Taffy was at the door, panting. "Captain."

"Fromage, Taffy," the leader of the Battle Order reminded her.

"Fromage," she amended. "There's a problem."

Fromage cocked an eyebrow.

"Can it wait till morning?" Parfait asked.

Taffy shook her head. "No. It's Sasha."

"Is she not in her quarters?" Fromage asked. She wondered if Sasha enjoyed her accommodations. Fromage certainly did. Pink was such a lovely color.

"That's the problem," Taffy explained. "She's gone!"


End file.
